Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus
by HallieU
Summary: In 1994, Charlie Weasley and Ariadne Rutherford find themselves back at Hogwarts, managing dragons. But the old castle brings back memories of the past...and a day neither of them will ever forget.
1. Prologue

**A/N:  Our summer project.  This is what you get when you lock Andy and Hallie in a house together for three weeks.  Complete obsession.  The characters in this come straight from Spiritus aduro by Hallie, but reading that is not strictly necessary.  We'd like to take this opportunity to thank Louise for her sterling support along the way, and Arabella for her fantabulous editing skills.  ****J******

**A/N II (from Andy):  Hallie absolutely ROX. She is the most witty, intelligent and creative person you could ever hope to work for. My part is entirely dedicated to her and her wonderful Spiritus Aduro series.  **

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus _By Hallie & Andy___ ~Prologue~ 

Charlie entered the tent, a weary expression on his face. Ria looked up.

'You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards,' she noted, arching her eyebrows. 'Saracen giving you trouble?'

Charlie fell back into a chair and exhaled loudly. 'That dragon is a nightmare, honestly. I don't know _how_ Harry managed to get past her.'

About a month ago, Charlie and Ria had been sitting at home on a perfectly normal summer afternoon, chatting about Merri and Jon's wedding, when an owl had swooped in with a letter bearing the Hogwarts crest. It had run thus:

_Dear Mr Weasley,_

_It is with great pleasure that I write to inform that this year, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has successfully bid to have the Triwizard Tournament reinstated and played on the Hogwarts grounds._

_If you are unfamiliar with this competition, I shall endeavour to explain briefly. The Tournament takes place between the three main schools of magic – Hogwarts, Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. A Champion is selected from each school to participate._

_The Tournament itself will consist of three separate tasks, designed to test the Champions' magical abilities…_

And so it continued, a long and colourful history of the Triwizard Tournament. Eventually, just as Ria suggested putting a pot of tea on, Charlie got to the point.

The tasks have been drawn up and it has come to light that the First Task will involve the use of dragons.

'Dragons!' Ria had said, shocked. 'At Hogwarts?'

'That's what it says,' Charlie had said, drawn between exhilaration and concern. The letter had gone on to explain what this would entail and how the dragons might possibly be transported to Hogwarts. Charlie had read it with interest, and had come to a postscript scrawled in loopy handwriting at the end.

_Charlie,_

_I do apologise for the extremely long and boring letter. One sometimes tires of the menial but unavoidable tasks a Headmaster must carry out. Essentially, we will need four dragons of _different species –_ that much is imperative. I am sure you are capable of undertaking this task, and would be most grateful if you could send back a reply indicating the dragons you will bring and the assistance you will need. You are of course welcome to bring along any co-workers you deem suited to the task._

_Take care, my dear boy. I hope to see you on Hogwarts grounds again soon,_

_Albus Dumbledore_

'Well, Ri, it looks like we're going to Hogwarts,' Charlie had said, folding up the letter. His face had cracked into a wide grin.

'I don't like that look, Charlie Weasley,' Ria had said, smirking. 'I don't like that look one bit.'

Charlie and Ria were now camped in a tent on the Hogwarts grounds. It was the evening after the First Task, and everyone was talking about one thing.

At the choosing of the Hogwarts Champion – for some inexplicable reason – _two _Champions had been chosen. And the second had been none other than Harry Potter – who apart from anything else was technically underage.

But he had been permitted to participate and in the First Task had amazed the watching crowds by completing his task in the quickest time. Ria and Charlie were huddled up in blankets, discussing what had transpired. 

'But did you see how well he _flew_?' Charlie was saying. 'Bill always said that Harry's Dad was wicked with a broomstick…'

Ria smiled. 'He reminded me of you a bit.'

'Nah, he had a lot more concentration. I was mostly concerned with showing off to the pretty girls.'

Ria swiped at him. 'Charlie Weasley, that is perfect codswallop and you know it. I used to _watch_ your Quidditch games, you know, and I could tell you were far more concerned with catching the Snitch than observing just who might be enamoured by your talents.'

Charlie smiled, but his eyes darkened slightly. 'Those were tough times,' he said slowly. 'Quidditch was a good way of taking my mind off… everything that was happening.'

'Yes, it was difficult,' Ria agreed. 'But I remember some of it as if it were yesterday…'

*


	2. Part I: Charlie

**Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus**

**_~Charlie~_**

Charlie sat in the empty Gryffindor common room, scratching his neck irritably. He was tired – he'd been tired for the best part of five years – and his brother's never ceasing habit of turning up late was wearing thin. On top of everything else, he had a Quidditch match tomorrow morning. Groaning, he stretched out across one of the sofas. 

'Sleeping on the job?' came his brother's voice, as Bill Weasley stepped through the Portrait Hole. 'Sorry I'm late,' he added, brushing dust off his robes and rubbing his Head Boy badge. 'Last rounds, and all that. You're not going to believe what I caught Jeremy and Becca doing in the Prefects' Bathroom…' He trailed off, catching a glimpse of the look on Charlie's face.

'Mum sent this,' Charlie said, yawning and reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a sheet of paper that Bill took and read aloud.

_"Dear Bill and Charlie_," he read. "_I hope that this letter reaches you safely, and that you are changing your socks regularly. Don't think I don't know you, Charles Weasley – given half the chance you'd wear the same underwear day in, day out for a year. Just like your father, the both of you.  I haven't seen him for three days!  And no owls for socks, although he did say that he was all right for the moment…although I doubt he keeps his socks at work."_ Charlie wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.  His mother's brave front, whilst hilarious, was just that.  

"_I'm afraid I have bad news about Uncle Bilius_," Bill continued. "_He was helping Sirius Black track down Remus Lupin – he hasn't been seen for months – when he saw a Grim. I'm sad to say he died yesterday morning_." Bill tensed, and Charlie put a consoling arm on his shoulder. Bill had been very close to their uncle, who had made a success of himself, despite the connotations that came with being a Weasley.

'It's so bloody _stupid_,' Bill swore suddenly, dropping the letter for a minute. 'Hundreds of Dark Wizards everywhere, and Uncle Bill manages to avoid them, but then he sees a _Grim_, of all things…and he didn't even _believe _in Divination!'

Charlie, though he denied it, was actually very superstitious, and a great believer in the divining arts. The fate of his uncle only confirmed his beliefs.  He placed a consoling hand on his brother's arm.

'At least he had the satisfaction of not being forced out of this world by the forces of evil,' he said. Bilius Weasley had always sworn that there was no fate worse than death at the hand of the Dark Lord's minions.  He resisted the urge to add  'Luke, I am your father,' in the manner of his father's favourite Muggle film villain.  He was pretty sure that to do so would be inappropriate.

_"On a more pleasant note_,' Bill continued, shrugging. '_Ron said his first word last Wednesday – 'wand'-_'

'Wand?' Charlie said, spluttering. 'Wishful thinking on Mum's part, I think. Far more likely to have been 'Ron'.  Bill smiled and shushed him, before continuing.

_"I hope this is an indication of his magical prowess, but then Fred's first word was 'quiet', and he is anything but. The twins blew up the kitchen last week, and Ginny is now teething on your father's chess set – best not to mention that to him though, he might be a little irritated'_ - well that's the understatement of the century,' Bill said, commenting on their father's great affection for the game. '_Percy is helping out as much as he possibly can – and he's started reading your _Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1, _Bill. He seems very eager to get down to learning magic._'

'Sounds like poor old Mum's been running herself ragged,' Bill commented, giving Charlie a sideward glance. Charlie gave a slight nod, and gazed at the glowing embers in the fireplace. Bill read the rest of the letter to himself, only reading out the last paragraph.

_"It looks as though Ginny will turn out looking very similar to _– " Bill halted and showed Charlie the parchment. Charlie saw that his mother had scribbled out the word '_Ellie_', and had instead written '_your sister_'. "_We all miss you here, and hope to see you before too long. All our love, Mum and Dad._' Bill folded up the note and passed it back to Charlie, who smiled somewhat sadly at the way his mother had signed the note. He knew Bill would understand why he seemed so morose. Their mother had come very close to mentioning Ellie's name, something which neither Bill nor Charlie could really take. They had been nine and twelve at the time – not really old enough to understand why Ellie had been killed, but not young enough to have forgotten what their sister had been like. 

Molly Weasley had been delighted when, just over five years after losing Ellie, she had given birth to another daughter. Charlie, though, after being fraught with guilt over Ellie's death (despite Bill's assurances that he had nothing to do with it), had refused to go near Ginny when she was born. Fortunately, he had returned to school the next morning and had been able to get away from her. He was scared that if he got too attached to Ginny, she would die as well.

Bill put an arm around his brother's shoulder.

'Don't worry, mate,' he said, with a small smile. 'It'll sort itself out. And it's not like we're in any danger here at Hogwarts…'

Charlie didn't reply for a few moments. 'It's not us I'm worried about, Bill,' he said, sighing. 'It's Dad, and Mum, and Percy – everyone. _We _may be safe, but _they_ aren't, not really.'

Charlie stood up and walked over to the corner of the room, where a large circular mirror hung on the wall. He looked at his reflection sadly – there were dark circles under his eyes and his chin was flecked with stubble. He had far too many cares for a fifteen-year-old boy. He should've been playing Quidditch, chatting up girls, skiving Charms lessons. Instead, he was faced with this miserable anxiety. He felt stifled.

'Do you want a game of Quidditch?' he said suddenly, turning to Bill. 'Just near the Castle, I mean, in case…' He trailed off, realising how ridiculous his proposition was.

Bill couldn't help but laugh at the glint in his brother's eye. 'You're terrible,' he chuckled. ''Do you want a game of Quidditch?' indeed. You're such a plonker.'

Charlie smiled nervously. 'Sorry,' he said. 'I'm a bit preoccupied, to tell you the truth. We've got our first game tomorrow and I _really_ want to win. Just to prove that we can still retain a bit of normalcy, y'know? I'll need to be up first thing to check the pitch.'

'Well, you tinker with your own delusions, because I'm off to bed.'

'I can't interest you in a nice cuppa before bed, Grandpa?' Charlie asked, innocently. 

'Shut it, or I'll hang you from the torch bracket.'' Bill grinned lopsidedly. 'Head Boy privilege.'

'Go on, off with you,' said Charlie, giving his brother a friendly smack on the arm.

Bill winced. 'Well, if it ever comes to a boxing match between you and You-Know-Who, strike one for the Weasleys.'

They looked at each other, and laughed. In fact, they got so lost in a fit of uncontrollable chortles that Charlie had to slap Bill on the back to stop him choking. They looked at each other again – both of them knew it wasn't really funny. And they knew it was getting worse. But if they couldn't laugh, what could they do?

'Night, Charlie,' Bill called, sauntering over to the door to the stairs and retreating through it. 

'Yeah, night,' replied Charlie, as the door shut with a snap. He retreated to the couch and lay on it. He didn't want to go back to his own dorm – Adrian tended to wake up screaming in the middle of the night about his parents. Charlie himself slept like a log, and had never been troubled by nightmares or premonitions, but the ghastly screaming was more than he could bear. And there was a fair bit of it around Hogwarts.

Instead he lay on the couch looking up at the ceiling. He wondered what his time at Hogwarts would have been like if You-Know-Who _hadn't_ been around. He knew it was selfish, but sometimes he felt very jealous of the older generations, who had grown up in safety and happiness. Charlie was just relieved that he had Bill. Out of the seven siblings, Bill and Charlie were easily the closest, closer even than the twins. Then again, they'd been through a lot together. Charlie would've been a superhero to get through some of his experiences without a reassuring hand from his older brother. Bill was possibly the calmest person he knew, and that was just the sort of person that one needed in the current climate.

Before he could expand on this thought, Charlie fell asleep.

*

Charlie jerked awake several hours later. It was light by now – bright sunshine streamed into the common room and lit up the portraits on the wall. However, it was bitterly cold. Shivering, Charlie rolled off the couch and pointed his wand at the grate. A roaring fire sprang up, and Charlie relaxed into another chair as it warmed him from head to toe.

It was after a few minutes that he noticed he wasn't alone. A short second-year he recognised as Becca Rutherford's younger sister was sitting in front of him, looking pale and worn. She had a simple blue dressing gown on top of her white nightdress.

'You're up early,' he said, checking his watch. 'It's Ria, isn't it?' She nodded. 'It's a good time to get your thoughts in order, isn't it?' he said, looking out of the window. 'I quite often get up early and sit down here to clear my thoughts. Couldn't you sleep?'

She blushed very slightly, but still said nothing. Charlie smiled.

'What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?' She shook her head, looking up at him quizzically. Charlie was reminded of someone, but couldn't think for the life of him who it was.

'Never mind, kiddo,' he said, smiling. Becca Rutherford was a Ravenclaw and a fairly close friend of Bill's. She was like Bill in a way – funny, loyal – but also had quite the  temper. Until she had started dating Jeremy Little several months ago – Jeremy was a Beater on the Gryffindor Quidditch team - Charlie had been sure Bill was sleeping with her on the sly. But she was a lovely girl, and Charlie was fairly sure her younger sister would be no different. Funnily, though, they didn't look a bit alike.

'My name,' Ria suddenly said, breaking her silence, 'is Ariadne.' She narrowed her eyes at him.

'Charlie Weasley,' he replied in a friendly tone. 'That wasn't so hard, was it?' He had a nasty feeling he could be coming across as condescending, and so quickly added: 'Ariadne. That's a pretty name. Unusual.'

'Ariadne was the Greek Goddess of Holiness,' Ria said, bristling, as though she herself was a Greek Goddess. 

'It suits you,' said Charlie, amused. 'Well, your Holiness,' he continued, with a slight grin, 'much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to go and check the Quidditch Pitch – we might have to change our tactics if it's foggy.' He stood up and smiled. 'Nice meeting you.  So long!'

He waved cheerfully, before exiting the Common Room from the portrait hole. As he walked passed the Great Hall, he came across Niamh Finnigan, one of the Chasers on the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

'Niamh,' he said cheerfully. 'Looks like it'll be a good day for Quidditch.'

She turned and smiled at him. 

'Oh, sounds good. Do you have a Plan, Hallowed Captain?'

He grinned and tossed an arm around her shoulder, dragging her out into the cool sunshine with him. 'It's gonna be bloody marvellous,' he said, as they headed, laughing, towards the Quidditch pitch.

*

Charlie glanced around at the six nervous players of his team. They had all donned scarlet and gold Gryffindor Quidditch uniforms, and each of them was holding a broomstick.

'All right then, boys and girls,' he said, grinning slightly to hide his nerves. 'I'm not going to trouble you with the classic, 'This is _it_. This is The Big One' speech. We all know that we _can_ beat Ravenclaw, good Chasers or no. We just have to _concentrate_.'

He turned to his Chasers.

'Niamh, Jamie, Perry – just try and get us an early lead, OK? I know how good their Chasers are, but frankly, _you're better_. They've got new Beaters this year as well… just try and keep on top of things, yeah?' Niamh smiled reassuringly at Charlie, and Jamie gave the captain a brief slap on the back. Peregrine (or Perry) Williams, however, looked nothing short of terrified. It was his first game in a Gryffindor shirt, as he was only a Second Year. Charlie knew he had a lot of potential, though.  

Charlie turned to the Beaters. Jeremy looked confident, as usual. He and Mark were speaking to each other briefly. They looked up at Charlie. 'Just keep it legal, yeah?'

The Beaters laughed. They were known for being unduly aggressive when the thrill of a Quidditch victory was in their sights.

Finally he turned to their Keeper, Alison – the second most experienced player in the team. 

'Good luck, Al,' he said, touching her shoulder briefly.

'Right then,' he said, addressing the whole team. 'Let's go!'

*

The applause in the stadium was a little more subdued than Charlie had known it in the past. However, it was still loud enough to warrant sticking his fingers in his ears. He raced to the centre of the pitch, the familiar surge of excitement returning to him, and felt relieved when he noticed Albus Dumbledore sitting high up in the stands.

Madame Jeffries strode into the centre of the pitch clutching a large wooden box. Behind her swooped the Ravenclaw team in their blue robes. The Gryffindor team clapped along politely as the Slytherins and Ravenclaws in the crowd roared appreciatively, about half of the Hufflepuffs joining in. There was a lot more noise for the Ravenclaw team, that was for sure, but Charlie was unfazed. The Slytherin lot had never really taken to him – bar half a dozen, perhaps – no matter how diplomatic he tried to be when dealing with them. However, he thought, the way in which some narrow-minded idiots thought of them, a sort of 'Slytherin = Evil' formula, made him understand why some of them were quite bitter. 

He shrugged. It wasn't time to consider inter-house relationships. Both teams sprang into the air to do a quick lap of the pitch, waving enthusiastically at the supporters. When they returned to the ground, the Gryffindor team huddled in a circle, as was their custom, heads bent. They remained in that position until the whistle was blown, at which point Charlie flew straight upwards, Alison hovered back towards the Gryffindor goal, the Chasers sprang towards the Quaffle, and the Beaters followed, holding their clubs at arm's length.

_I love Quidditch_, Charlie thought vaguely, as he headed for the clouds.

The game started well. Gryffindor managed to take an early lead as Niamh slotted the Quaffle through the Ravenclaw goal twice. However, some good Beating from the Ravenclaws prevented her third goal. 

It was a very close first half an hour. Charlie realised soon enough that the new Ravenclaw Beaters were excellent. They managed to force the Bludgers right at the Gryffindor Chasers, causing them to peel off from their attacks. Perry, however, had come into his own in the last ten minutes. He appeared to have overcome his nerves, and managed to dodge the Chasers deftly to score a hat trick. However, by this time the Ravenclaw Chasers had notched up forty points. Jeremy and Mark were doing their jobs admirably, but the Chasers _were_ good. It was a damn close match, and Charlie had a feeling it was going to come down to whoever caught the Golden Snitch first.

He thought quickly, and then swooped down so he was opposite Jeremy. 'Switch to defensive,' he called thickly, as a Bludger narrowly missed his head. 'Try and deter their attacks!' He swooped away before Jeremy had the chance to reply, but saw that the two Beaters headed towards the Gryffindor goal. 

Charlie didn't believe in time out. Besides, just shouting orders to his players from mid-air allowed him to get a good view of the whole pitch. He whistled past Niamh just slowly enough to say, 'Hang back, but keep possession.'

However, Charlie hadn't considered the Ravenclaw counter-attack. They immediately piled on the pressure. Their Beaters came forward and started whisking the Bludgers _towards_ the Gryffindor Beaters. Charlie would have laughed if it hadn't been so successful. It distracted Mark and Jeremy from defending and allowed the Ravenclaw Chasers to sail past Alison and knock in two more goals.

'Sod it,' Charlie said to himself, before motioning to his Chasers to resume attacking play. 'So much for being Hallowed Captain.'

He span in mid-air, again narrowly missing a Bludger, and soared skywards, hoping for an aerial view of the pitch. He was just about to call to Perry when something gold streaked past him, heading for the ground. 

Charlie swooped after it, knowing that the Ravenclaw Seeker, the somewhat sluttish Sophie Redman, was nowhere near him. If he got the Snitch, Gryffindor would win by two-hundred points to sixty, putting them easily on top of the standings. So they might get away with a draw against Slytherin…

WHOOSH! Charlie was forced to do a half-spin and a Weasley Twist to avoid the Bludger that came whooshing at him. He cursed himself – he'd been too busy thinking about winning to notice the large iron menace sweeping towards him. As for the Weasley Twist, it was a name the rest of the team had dubbed for Charlie's best move – he would literally twist on his broom so that he was riding on the underside of it, looking up at the sky, and wait for a Bludger to pass over him. He would then perform an incredible one-hundred-and-eighty degree spin, forcing himself downwards so that he could fly off in the other direction. It often took him hours trying to explain this to anyone.

He had an idea. He swooped down close to Perry and whispered something into his ear. Perry nodded and sped off towards the player holding the Quaffle.  

Charlie, meanwhile, headed straight for the far end of the field, where the Ravenclaw Beaters were causing havoc for the Gryffindor attack. He raced right between them, grinning, and then whooshed away. It was not what he did, but the manner in which he did it. It worked like a charm. The Beaters swept after him, clubs in hand. Charlie had to perform several Weasley Twists and all sorts of dips, spins and dives to avoid being brained by the Bludgers for the next several minutes. They had taken the bait, though.

At the other end, Perry and Jamie were scoring goal after goal, because the Ravenclaw defence had fallen apart without the two Beaters. Charlie silently thanked Brutus Scrimgeour's blessed dictum in _The Beaters' Bible_ – 'Take out the Seeker'. Charlie had known the Beaters would chase him with the intent to injure, and it had worked beautifully, because Gryffindor were again ahead. 

He jerked his Nimbus 1000 around and sped off towards the Gryffindor end. Alison had just made a nice save and lofted the Quaffle forward to Jamie. Jamie juggled it about a bit, passing it around his back and playing a square pass to Perry. Perry sprinted up the left side of the field, ducking a Bludger and avoiding the tackle by Ravenclaw's right-hand Chaser. He looked over for Niamh on the far side and sent a beautiful weighted pass her way. Niamh drew closer to the goal from the right hand side, coaxing the Keeper towards her. She drew her arm back to shoot but completed the dummy, floating it square for Jamie, who had flown down the centre of the pitch, to put the Quaffle through the unguarded left hoop. 

Charlie couldn't help but grin. _Like a knife through butter_.

And then the Snitch appeared again. Charlie hesitated, noticing that Sophie was much closer to it than he was. Keeping his left eye on the Snitch, he just managed to catch Mark with his right eye, and indicated the Ravenclaw Chaser. Mark gave the briefest of nods, and then Charlie dived.

Sophie saw Charlie dive and then saw the Snitch, glittering in the air about thirty metres away from her. She was much closer than him. Feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of beating Charlie Weasley, she spun her broom around quickly. She was about to dive when a Bludger came out of nowhere and almost sent her flying from her broom. 

She shrieked, but managed to cling on. She sped downwards. She could still make it! 

The second Bludger sealed Ravenclaw's fate. It came from below her, and forced her to turn ninety degrees to the left. She raced after Charlie anyway, but knew that the Snitch was his. She swore under her breath. Typical of him to pull a stunt like that.

Meanwhile, the Gryffindor fans were on their feet as Charlie hovered in mid-air, the Snitch clasped firmly in his hand. The final score was two-hundred-and-seventy to sixty, meaning Gryffindor were in first place for the Quidditch Cup with a goal difference of plus two-hundred-and-ten. Charlie grinned broadly as the team hugged lopsidedly in mid-air, floating down to the ground.

The Gryffindors swamped around them, as did many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs. Charlie had really turned the game around with his tactics – nobody could argue with that. Charlie himself couldn't stop laughing and smiling as student after student slapped him on the back. 

It was the best feeling, however, when Bill sidled up to him and snuck an arm around his brother's shoulder. 'That'll do, mate,' he said, smiling. Charlie jumped from his broom.

'Is the Head Boy even allowed to touch younger students?' he joked wickedly, patting his brother on the back. 

It was odd. With everything that was going on in the world outside, Hogwarts was sometimes in the thick of it, and sometimes a million miles away from it all. At that particular moment, Charlie wasn't thinking about Voldemort, or his Dad, or the countless thousands who had died under the flaming Dark Mark. He ate, slept and breathed Quidditch, and no matter what the circumstances he would always love it. It was the start of a good weekend that was to change the wizarding world for years to come.

*

In a haze of scarlet and gold, Charlie and the team found themselves back in the Gryffindor common room. Almost the entire house was crammed into it, laughing, joking and swigging Butterbeer. After the game, Bill had obtained Professor McGonagall's 'permission' to get food from the school kitchens. People were also fervently discussing the match, and how Charlie's excellent tactics had paid off. In one corner, a group of Second Years including Perry Williams were prodding a figure of the England National Squad's Seeker, trying to make him perform the Weasley Twist.

Charlie, meanwhile, was caught in the thick of everything. His time was divided between discussing future tactics with his Beaters, being slapped on the back by anyone who walked past, drinking from a bottle of Butterbeer and flirting with Felicity Moore's – she kept glancing over at him and winking seductively. However, much as Charlie liked girls' company (and indeed, liked to flirt with them), after the incident with Ellie he was somewhat reluctant to form romantic attachments. In fact, he kept his number of close friends to a minimum. The fewer people who were targeted, the better. In these times, it was impossible to know who to trust. For a fairly normal fifteen-year-old boy, this was not easy.

Also, his resistance of girls was made equally difficult due to the fact that he was not overly unpopular with most of them at Hogwarts. 

For once, the tension in the room was milder than usual. Conversations occasionally lilted when people were reminded of the goings-on outside Hogwarts, but generally people were sitting back and enjoying themselves. 

The afternoon passed quickly. At about eight o' clock, Charlie was sitting by the fire in the common room, playing chess with Felicity. Sometimes he actually enjoyed the verbal picnics they shared. Bill and Jeremy were discussing some Defence Against the Dark Arts work, though most of the Gryffindors had either retreated to their dorms or headed for a late supper in the Great Hall. 

'Your move, Cap'n,' said Felicity, having moved her knight. Charlie grinned.

'It looks like I'm going to be able to take your piece,' he said. His queen was lined up to take one of Felicity's rooks. Felicity smirked.

'Depends which piece you're talking about,' she said, ever so slightly adjusting her robes. Charlie just about managed to keep his eyes on her face.

'That one,' he said, as his queen dragged her rook from the board.

Felicity yawned. 'You're too good at this. Do you want to come upstairs and practise taking my pieces there?'

Charlie smirked. 'Sorry,' he said. 'Prior engagement.'

Felicity looked wounded. 'Charlie,' she drawled. 'You won't get a chance to checkmate me with that sort of attitude.'

'Sorry, gorgeous,' he said, standing up. 'You'll have to wait for someone else to checkmate your pieces.'

Trying not to laugh at the mixed expression of amusement and offence on Felicity's face (few boys turned her down), Charlie headed for the portrait hole. He decided that he might as well finish some of the Tranfiguration work he'd been doing. They hadn't started human Transfiguration yet – they were working mostly with small animals. Charlie needed to research Interspecies Transfiguration.

He was just about to leave when Becca Rutherford stormed through the portrait hole looking distressed. She had even forgotten to put her Head Girl badge on, which Charlie was sure was a first. 

'Becca? What's the problem?'

'Oh, Charlie! It's terrible. Come over here, I'll explain.' Puzzled, Charlie followed her into the corner where Bill and Jeremy were doing their work. Both of them jumped up at the look on Becca's face.

'Becca, are you all right?' Bill said, and he and Jeremy helped her into a chair. Jeremy put a comforting arm around her shoulder.

'What's happened?' Charlie said, lowering his voice – a group of Third Years was looking at the group of them curiously.  

'It's Dumbledore,' said Becca, frowning. 'My sister said she saw him receive an owl at the Quidditch game earlier and leave immediately. So I followed it up – and he's gone. He's left the school.'

This took a few minutes to sink in. 'He's… gone?' said Charlie in disbelief. 'Where? _Why_?'

'I don't _know_,' said Becca agitatedly, wringing her hands. 'But it must be something serious. Dumbledore hasn't left the school for _ages_.'

'He wouldn't,' Bill intoned, 'unless it was something very serious.'

'And it must've been,' agreed Charlie. 'Or else he'd have told you and Becca about it.'

Becca and Bill nodded. Dumbledore liked to keep them up-to-speed on proceedings outside of Hogwarts. They had probably faced far more dangers than Head Students preceding them. 

'Well, what are the possibilities?' Jeremy said. Charlie noticed Becca's younger sister enter the common room as Bill answered.

'The letter _may_ have been from You-Know-Who – that's unlikely, however, because Dumbledore would never leave the school prone to attack. Alternatively, it could have been from someone like the Longbottoms, or James and Lily, asking for Dumbledore's immediate help.'

'But they'd just come here, wouldn't they?'

'No,' Bill replied. 'It'd be too risky.'

Becca sighed. 'Whatever it is, I hope Dumbledore returns safe and sound. Powerful as some of the other teachers are, they'd be no match against You-Know-Who and his followers. You-Know-Who has never even _considered_ attacking the castle, let alone tried to. I guess a lot of people don't realise how safe we are under Dumbledore's protection.'

'Were,' Bill said darkly, glancing out into the night.

*

Charlie spent a while that night pondering Dumbledore's reason for leaving. He dreaded to think what might come to pass if Dumbledore was defeated…but no, that wouldn't happen. For one thing, You-Know-Who _was_ afraid of Dumbledore, or so everybody said. Secondly, Dumbledore wouldn't accept a duel from You-Know-Who under any circumstances, as it would leave Hogwarts at risk.

It was a puzzler. Obviously, Dumbledore thought that Hogwarts would be completely safe in his absence. He would certainly not leave if it were otherwise.

Then again… Dumbledore may simply have increased the complexity of the spells protecting Hogwarts. Maybe he had tried to sneak away without Voldemort realising he had gone… no, that would be very unDumbledorish. Besides, Charlie was fairly sure that Voldemort had his contact within Hogwarts, even if their identities were veiled.  

The thought that appeased Charlie enough to allow him sleep was that Dumbledore had been gone nearly half a day, and there had been no hint of an attack. For the moment, he had the impression that they were safe. All the same, he hoped Dumbledore would return soon. 

*

Charlie awoke as usual the next morning, though many others in the wizarding world did not. He showered and changed, and decided to head to the library before breakfast to do some research. He was able enough in practical subjects – Flying and Care of Magical Creatures came naturally – but his academics needed a bit of work. Perry, who was keen to discuss the Gryffindor team's future prospects, accompanied him as far as the library. They spoke about the upcoming Hufflepuff vs. Slytherin game, and what would be the best outcome for them. Charlie was happy to see someone just as enthralled by Quidditch as he was. Perry had a lot of potential, that was for sure.

He reached the library and headed to the back to find a Transfiguarion volume. He eventually opted for _Advanced Transfiguration: You're Going to Wish Your Friend Had Left You as a Tortoise _by _Furry Peterson_. 

He found a seat in the corner, and started reading, pulling his essay out of his bag. However, a little later on he was beginning to worry.  He had come to the library intent on studying Advanced Transfiguration.  And had been followed by Becca's younger sister, for reasons he couldn't fathom.  The dark haired girl, who bore no resemblance to any of the other Rutherfords, had seated herself at the table opposite his and was engrossed in some text or other.  He'd been about to return his attention to his work, which was still eight inches too short, when another Rutherford girl - the middle one who was in Ravenclaw...what was her name...Emily?  Emma?  Gemma...that was it, Gemma - sat down at the same table as her sister.  

Ten minutes later, Becca herself stormed into the library.  Charlie closed his book with a thump...was he wearing a Rutherford magnet today, or something?  It seemed that everywhere he went, they followed.

It was soon apparent that Becca was not in the library to work. She matched the librarian's glare with one of her own and called the attention of everyone in the library. She had made sure that her Head Girl badge was easily visible.

'Everyone,' she said, in her 'Don't Mess With Me I'm Head Girl' voice, 'is required to report to the Great Hall immediately. There is a matter of some urgency that Professor McGonagall wishes to address.'

For a moment or two, nobody moved. They were too stunned by this pronouncement. Since when had Professor McGonagall called emergency assemblies?

'Did you not hear me?' said Becca impatiently. 'The Great Hall, now!'

Elsewhere, Bill was issuing the same message – though a good deal more politely, it must be said.

Charlie's mind was reeling as he followed Gemma and Ria Rutherford to the Great Hall. They were chatting to one another about what this all might mean. Gemma kept shooting backward glances at him, as though he was eavesdropping on their private conversation.

The Great Hall was teeming with confused students when Charlie arrived. He was surprised to see that it was not just students, but everybody involved in school life. Even the ghosts were huddled in one corner – even _Moaning Myrtle _had abandoned her toilet (Felicity had once asked if it was illegal to kill a ghost). Not only that, but the hundreds of portraits around the castle had attempted to squash themselves into the Great Hall's many frames. Agrippa, Godric Gryffindor, the Fat Lady and Newt Scamander had found themselves sharing a frame with a rather vicious Manticore. The House Elves had even been forced from the Kitchens and skittered nervously in the Hall, avoiding the students' eyes. 

Charlie's eyes were drawn away from this amazing sight when the door at the far end of the Hall opened and Albus Dumbledore stepped through.

The silence was instantaneous. Every eye turned to Dumbledore, who smiled briefly.

'I appreciate how inconvenient this little meeting is, but I feel it is my duty to pass on the news that has settled on the wizarding world.'

Charlie began to feel apprehensive, even though Dumbledore was back. Somehow, he got the feeling that this wasn't good news. 

'Some of you in the Sixth and Seventh Year may remember Lily and James Potter, who were Head Girl and Boy here several years ago.' Charlie saw Bill stiffen. 'Lord Voldemort attacked the Potters' house in Godric Hollow yesterday evening, and I am sad to say that Lily and James Potter were both killed.'

Dumbledore looked very weary all of a sudden. Meanwhile, there was some sad whispering amongst Sixth and Seventh Years. ('Lily and James – I don't believe it.' 'They were always so nice to us.' 'When will it end?'). Bill, meanwhile, had sunk down in his chair. Charlie knew that he had known James and Lily vaguely in his first two years at Hogwarts. 

But murders were common these days. Why call a huge assembly? 

Then Charlie realised that Dumbledore had not finished speaking. 


	3. Part II: Ria

**Draco Dormiens Numquam Titillandus**

**~Ria~**

Ria sat up gasping, plagued by the nightmare that had been haunting her for the past three weeks, ever since her father had disappeared. She was drenched in sweat, and her fingers trembled as she pushed back the blankets and groped for her dressing gown. A glance at the window showed that it was early – barely even light - but there was no point in going back to sleep. 

In the bed next to her own, her best friend, Jessalyn Goodman slept, a broad smile on her face. Wanting to be alone, away from her sleeping classmates, Ria shoved her feet into her slippers and stumbled down the stairs to the Gryffindor Common Room.

The Common Room was deserted, but that was to be expected, bearing in mind the earliness of the hour. With only the echo of her own footsteps to accompany her, Ria headed for the red velvet of the armchairs that were drawn around the fireplace. In the grate, the flames flickered, a fantasia of reds, oranges and yellows.  Tucking her feet under herself, Ria settled into one of the chairs to think.

She had last heard from her father three weeks ago, in the first week of October. Since then he had not replied to any of the many letters she had sent him, and her mother, when questioned, simply glossed over the subject, saying that Daddy was 'still at work'. Well, Daddy had been 'working' for three weeks now, and given the perilous nature of his job and the virulence of the darkness that surrounded them, Ria couldn't help but worry that he had been caught.

She had never fully understood why her father had re-enlisted as an Auror. He had spent five years in the wizard crack force between leaving school in 1945 and marrying her mother in 1950. As a child she had heard stories of what it was like to be an Auror back then. He'd originally joined the Department of Magical Law Enforcement in order to counter the actions of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald, who had killed his parents in his last year of school. On marrying Rosamunde Sutton, Alexander Rutherford had resigned from the force, saying that there was too much risk involved, and that he didn't want to leave his wife a widow. 

And now there was a new Dark Lord, more powerful than Grindelwald, and more terrifying than all who had gone before. So Alexander Rutherford had rejoined the forces of light, and once again risked his life so that his children could live in a world free from fear.

Well, that was the theory, anyway. Ria had been five when her father had returned to his old profession, after a twenty-five year stint in civvy street as the Managing Director of his own firm. For the past seven years, she had lived in fear. Every time he went away, she couldn't help wondering whether she'd ever see him again. And, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, the Darkness was growing. As long as her father was an Auror, he was at risk. Now he had disappeared, and she hadn't heard from him for nearly a month. She feared the worst.

Her dreams were plagued with phantom images of her father being caught by Death Eaters. First they subjected him to physical torture, to the pain of Cruciatus and other illegal curses over and over again, battering his body. Her father was fifty-four now; he was too old to withstand such pain. And once they'd broken him physically and left him so that he was so weak with pain that he couldn't scream any more, even if he wanted to, they began to play with his mind. They took his battered body, barely conscious, to a dark room, and he was left in the company of Dementors for hours and hours. Over and over again he relived the worse days of his life. Over and over again, his worst fears ran through his brain, a palimpsest of false images. Time after time he watched his family – his wife and four daughters – tortured and killed. Once they had ruined him, broken him mentally, battered him physically, they taunted him. And then they killed him. Not with the quick and painless Avada Kedavra, but with more cruel spells, not potent enough to finish him off quickly. He was left to suffer in agony for hours, his life slowly draining away. 

And then they laughed.

Ria knew that her nightmares were just that: figments of her imagination. But that didn't make them any less real; didn't stop the images from being engraved on her mind. She gazed, unseeing, into the fire, her thoughts dark with despair. 

She was jerked back to earth by a pair of hazel eyes, bright and mischievous, looking into her own, from the chair opposite hers. Blinking, she reluctantly let go of her thoughts and came face-to-face with the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain.

'You're up early,' he commented. 'It's Ria, isn't it?' 

She nodded, mutely, not trusting herself to speak. She was suddenly acutely aware of the tangled mass of dark curls on her head, and of the long white cotton nightdress that was only partially hidden by the soft blue flannel of her dressing gown.

'It's a good time to get your thoughts in order, isn't it,' he noted, smiling indulgently at her. 'I quite often get up early and sit down here to clear my thoughts. Couldn't you sleep?' 

She shook her head, suddenly overcome with a shyness that she thought she had conquered. Why couldn't he just leave her to her thoughts? More to the point, why was he even talking to her?

'What's the matter?' he asked, a teasing grin lighting up his face. 'Cat got your tongue?' 

She shook her head again.

'Never mind, kiddo,' he said, still with that annoying self-confidence. 

'My name,' Ria told him, sounding imperious. 'Is Ariadne.' She didn't appreciate being called 'kiddo', and never had done. And he looked like he was going to pat her on the head. No one, not even the family elders, did that.

'Charlie Weasley,' he replied, grinning. 'That wasn't so hard, was it?' He looked annoyingly self-satisfied. 'Ariadne,' he mused. 'That's a pretty name. Unusual.'

 'Ariadne was the Greek Goddess of Holiness,' Ria informed him, still demonstrating something of the regal manner that she had learnt as the youngest daughter of a noble family. 

'It suits you,' Charlie said, matter-of-factly. 'Well, your Holiness, much as I'd love to stay and chat, I need to go and check the Quidditch Pitch – we might have to change our tactics if it's foggy. Nice meeting you. So long!' With a cheery wave and a grin he disappeared through the portrait hole, leaving Ria feeling thoroughly disgruntled, and not at all certain of what to do next.

*

'Ria! Ri! Wake _up! RIA!' Ria's eyes fluttered open as she became conscious of an increasingly violent hand shaking her shoulder. A blurry image of pink, white and blue resolved itself into the figure of Jessalyn Goodman, her best friend._

'What's the time?' Ria asked, rubbing her neck, which was stiff after being in the same position for so long.

'Eight o'clock,' Jessalyn replied. 'If you don't hurry, you'll miss breakfast.'

The thought of breakfast was enough to jerk Ria back into reality. Yawning, she rose from her chair and hurried up to the girls' dormitory. Breakfast was served between seven and nine on Saturdays, which meant she had precious little time to waste. Hastily she made use of the bathroom, and by the time Jessalyn returned to the dormitory, she was standing in front of the full-length mirror, braiding her black hair into two long pigtails. With a flourish she tied a scarlet ribbon at the bottom of one and flicked it over her shoulder.

'You look nice,' Jessalyn said, approvingly. Ria studied her image in the mirror. There was nothing particularly unusual about her attire, a vivid red shirt and navy blue corduroy dungarees. She had tied a Gryffindor Quidditch jersey around her waist. Ria guessed that it was this particular item of clothing to which Jessalyn, a confirmed addict of the sport, was referring.

'Thanks. What's for breakfast?'

'Who knows? Nothing, probably. The rest of the greedy-guts around here have no problem with scrapping off whatever's put in front of them. Come _on!' Jessalyn grabbed Ria's hand and dragged her down the Great Hall. They sat down next to Elizabeth Masters and Daisy Meredith, who were just finishing their own breakfasts of boiled egg and soldiers._

Ria helped herself to porridge, sweetening it with a liberal sprinkling of brown sugar before dipping her spoon into it. Jessalyn, meanwhile, was piling a full English breakfast on to her own plate.

'I don't know how you eat that stuff,' she said to Ria, cutting into her sausage.

'It's very nourishing,' Ria returned primly, quoting her mother. Her elder sister, Gemma, had never been terribly keen on the oat-based breakfast, preferring toast and marmalade. For years she had watched whilst the two of them battled about the merits of the traditional English breakfasts.

'It's boring,' Jessalyn said, derisively. 'And why are you discussing porridge, anyway? It's the first match of the season today! Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw! We're going to beat them to a bloody pulp. I mean - we've got _Charlie Weasley as captain!' _

 'I reckon the Ravenclaws will give us a run for our money, though,' Daisy chipped in. 'Their new players are _really good. I know Charlie's an amazing Quidditch player and everything, but strategically it could be tricky.' _

 'Charlie will win,' Jessalyn said with conviction.

 'Or maybe he won't,' Ria said, irritated at the talk of the Quidditch Captain. She couldn't quite forget his manner when they had spoken in the Common Room. She wondered if he was as arrogant on the Quidditch Pitch as he was off of it.  She shook her head.  Was it even possible to play Quidditch arrogantly?

'Now we get to see where Miss Ria's _real loyalties lie,' Elizabeth teased. 'With her sisters being Ravenclaws, we have to wonder whether she has secret __sympathies.'_

Ria flicked her lightly.

'Don't be ridiculous. Of course I want Gryffindor to win – who wouldn't?'

'Slytherins, you plonker,' said Jessalyn, with a lopsided grin.

Ria glared. 

'I'm just saying that it doesn't always do to be complacent.' 

'Spoilsport,' Jessalyn grinned. She turned to Elizabeth and Daisy. 'Are you going straight to the Quidditch Pitch after breakfast? We need to be there early to get good seats.'

 'We need to rescue Vicky from the hospital wing first,' Daisy told her.

 'What happened this time?' Ria demanded. Victoria Jones was more than a little accident-prone and usually spent at least one day every fortnight with Madam Pomfrey, the school matron.

 'She fell down the stairs. Madam Pomfrey thinks she's broken her wrist. Anyway, Pomfrey was muttering about a Healing Charm when we left for breakfast, so hopefully Vicky won't have to miss the match.'

 'Poor Vicky,' Ria said, sympathetically. 'You don't suppose someone cursed her, do you?'

 'Nah – she's just naturally clumsy,' Daisy said easily.

 'She still spends too much time in there, though,' Elizabeth said thoughtfully. 'Maybe we can find a charm to help her…'

 'Or maybe we can't,' Jessalyn said, smiling. 'We love Vicky just the way she is, and if there was a cure for clumsiness don't you think Pomfrey would have administered it by now?'

Ria ignored the banter around her and focused on her bowl. It amazed her how Hogwarts could be in the thick of the battle between light and dark forces and yet still remain so insulated. Maybe youthful innocence was a virtue. Or maybe it would get one killed. 

*

There was an iciness in the air around Hogwarts that made Ria glad she'd had the foresight to pick up her warm winter robes. Pulling her scarf tightly around her neck and blowing on her gloved fingers, she settled back to wait for the rest of the school to join them in the stands. She and Jessalyn were the only people out, which was unsurprising given the fact that the match wouldn't start for another one-and-a-half hours. Ria wasn't bothered by this, though. Jessalyn was one of those people one could talk to in any place and at any time, and she could read Ria like a book.

'Did you have a nightmare again last night?' Jessalyn asked.

'I don't know what to do, Jessie, I really don't,' Ria said, nodding. 'I know it's irrational, and I know that the Ministry would have contacted Mums if… if anything had happened. But he's been gone for three weeks, and we haven't heard anything. He's never disappeared for that long before. And…I don't know, I'm just worried, I suppose. It seems that all the best Aurors are being annihilated, one after the other. How long before Daddy's number is up?'

'I know,' Jessalyn sighed. 'It's all so sticky, and…' She sighed again. 'Ri, have you ever wondered what it was like before?'

'Before?'

'Before _He arrived on the scene. In between Grindelwald and __Him. When there was peace, and you didn't have to spend your whole life looking over your shoulder, and if your father disappeared for three weeks, it was probably because he was having an affair with his secretary.'_

'Well, thanks for that encouraging prospect,' Ria said, acidly. 'Now I have another thing to worry about.'

'Ri, your Dad doesn't _have a secretary.'_

'He used to.' It was Ria's turn to sigh. 'Before. I don't know…we never knew a before. There's always been a Dark Lord for us. How are we supposed to imagine otherwise? But I do try, you know. I try to think of what it will be like when it's all over, when we've finally defeated him. I think it will be nice. But what if we're old women, Jess? What if he just keeps on getting more and more power?'

'Oh, hush with your pessimism,' Jessalyn thumped her good-naturedly. 'We'll defeat him before then, don't you worry. And keep your voice down.'

'Now who's pessimistic?' Ria demanded. Then she sobered. 'He got the Crispens. Last week. Rissa had a letter.'  Larissa Crispen was a Hufflepuff in their year. Her father had married a Muggle. That, Ria supposed, was why He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had gone after them. Now Larissa was the only Crispen left alive.

'Poor Rissa.' Jessalyn was sympathetic. 'What's going to happen to her?'

'I don't know. Maybe her mother's parents will take her in… Mind you, I doubt Rissie will want to live with them – it makes them a target. Possibly her Dad's brother, but they already have five children, so there's no knowing.'

'What about Merri? She was worried about her parents, wasn't she?'

'Apparently they've taken some sort of steps to ensure that they'll be okay. Wards, I presume – that's what we've done at Penarddun. Not that they'll be much good at keeping Death Eaters out, but at least it will give Mums and Lucy a chance to get away before they get in.'

'At least _we're safe,' Jessalyn observed, clearly trying to look on the bright side. 'Here at Hogwarts, I mean. No one would __dream of attacking Hogwarts for as long as Professor Dumbledore is here. Not even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.'_

She was right. Albus Dumbledore was possibly the only wizard that the Dark Lord feared, and with good reason. Many wizards thought that Dumbledore was the most powerful wizard of modern times, and still more wanted him as Minister for Magic. Ria could understand that. From the conversations she had overheard at home, the Ministry was a shambles, unable to keep up with the tide of destruction, still bogged down by red tape and powerless to come up with an effective counter attack. Little wonder, then, that some of the upper echelons of wizarding society sought Dumbledore as their own personal guardian. Dumbledore would never leave Hogwarts, though, so the point remained moot.

She was about to voice her agreement, but cockney tones beat her to it.

'Why on earth are you crazy people out here already?' Victoria Jones demanded, hazel eyes bright with merriment. Ria admired Vicky's capacity to completely ignore the darkness that surrounded them. As a Muggle-born witch she was one of the people most at risk from a Death Eater attack. But then Vicky was only in her second year at Hogwarts. Two years ago she had believed that magic was the substance of fairy tales. Until last year the Dark Lord hadn't existed for her. Ria wished that Vicky's Muggle life had been the truth; that dark magic and the Dark Lord had never existed. 

But wishes like hers had a habit of not coming true.

*

The teams finally flew out just as Ria was resigning herself to never having feeling in her toes again. By this time there were plenty of second-year students surrounding her. The majority of Slytherins, predictably, were supporting Ravenclaw, and the Hufflepuff contingent was evenly divided between the two sides. Meaning that, averaging support out, Ravenclaw probably had a greater field than Gryffindor. That too was unsurprising. Charlie Weasley, as Gryffindor Seeker, had never yet lost a Quidditch match.

Ria had been about three when her nine-year old cousin, David Sutton, had introduced her to the rules of Quidditch. For many years, Dave had been her hero, and amongst other things, he was passionate about Quidditch. So he had seated her three-year old self on the large expanse of green that he liked to refer to as Penarddun's Quidditch Pitch (although in reality it was just a field that her father hadn't cultivated) and told her everything she needed to know. _The Snitch is the interest of the Seeker, he had said. __If the Seeker catches the Snitch, their team receives one hundred and fifty points. If you catch the Snitch, Ria, you win. At the time she hadn't queried that assumption. However, she had since realised that it was possible for the team who didn't catch the Snitch to win. This was, however, unheard of at Hogwarts. David's hypothesis, then, extended only to school-boy Quidditch._

Ria studied her house team in much the same way as an artist studies his subject. The uniform - scarlet Quidditch robes with their gold lining, the woollen Quidditch jerseys, scarlet with a band of gold around the neck and breast, the cream knickerbockers that were worn by all house players and the shiny brown leather protective wear. Typically, her favourite item of Quidditch-wear was not visible; the scarlet and gold striped socks. Ria had often considered 'adopting' a pair from a team member. 

The players flew around the pitch a couple of times to warm up. Ria was suddenly enthused, forgetting about the numbness in her extremities, and cheered along with the rest of the supporters. She had often wondered why Dumbledore allowed Quidditch to continue in these dark times – so many people in one place would make the students quick and easy targets for zealous Death Eaters. However, the benefits outweighed the risks by far. Quidditch gave a sense of community to a Hogwarts that was increasingly isolationist in outlook. Associating with witches and wizards – any witches and wizards – could potentially result in the death of relatives at the hands of legions of cold-blooded Death Eaters. It was dangerous to have friends. 

Ria shook herself. Daydreaming was not going to help matters, and if she couldn't relay the Quidditch match in its entirety there'd be a queue of people knocking on the dormitory door carrying instruments of torture. Jessalyn would most probably be at the head, with Dave at the rear, Dave being the only other relative to have been in Gryffindor. Thinking about David was painful, though. He was another relative off fighting evil, and him only just out of Hogwarts. It didn't bear thinking about. Dave had always been one to take chances – Ria wondered if he'd make it through the war in one piece.

She sighed. It was getting to the point where, no matter how she tried to think about pleasant things, she ended up focusing on the Dark Lord. She felt helpless, sort of like a ghost, able only to talk, not to affect the physical world. And that was silly too, because of _course_ she could affect the physical world. She was alive, wasn't she? _For now. The thought came, unbidden into her head._

'RIA!' Jessalyn grabbed her friend's arm. 'Look! Charlie! He's seen the Snitch!' Sure enough, the redheaded Seeker was diving towards a golden goal. But before he reached it, a Ravenclaw Bludger came close to knocking him off his broomstick.  'Damn!' Jessalyn sounded highly irritated.

'Not supposed to happen, eh, Jessie?' Ria grinned. 'What's the score?'

'Ariadne Rutherford!' Jessalyn sounded affronted. 'You've been off in that little world in your head, haven't you, and when our team is playing. It's not right!'

'Aww, hush with your nonsense,' Ria said, echoing her friend's favourite dismissal. 'Just tell me the score, would you?'

'Ravenclaw's leading by ten points, sixty fifty. I think the Chasers are having issues – Ravenclaw have new Beaters, and they're _good!'_

'No need to sound surprised!' Ria laughed. 'They're not _just interested in school-work in Ravenclaw, you know.'_

'Are you sure?' Jessalyn looked surprised.

'Well, if Becca and Jeremy are anything to go by, school-work is, on occasion, the least of their worries. And before you launch into some disparaging speech on Ravenclaws in general, do remember that all of my sisters – not to mention my father – were Ravenclaws.'

'They're a good lot,' Jessalyn agreed. 'But my, they play bad Quidditch!'

'Evidently not,' Ria said, dryly, 'as they appear to be winning.'

'Hush with your nonsense,' Jessalyn said, and Ria grinned. If she had a sickle for every time Jessalyn said that, she'd be rich. 'Gryffindor will win, you just watch, and never mind Becca and Jeremy and their canoodling – focus on the _Quidditch, girl!'_

The Quidditch was actually rather interesting, Ria had to admit. The Gryffindor House Team was possibly the best of its kind, and not just at Hogwarts. Under Charlie Weasley's guidance, they'd risen to a level that hadn't been seen since James Potter was Quidditch Captain, seven years ago. Charlie had evidently done some studying, - either that or he was a genius – because some of the Gryffindor tactics were simply breathtaking. 

'He's so cute!' Jessalyn giggled, as Charlie flew near them. Ria couldn't see what the attraction was. He was a stocky redhead, in her opinion, and nothing like the tall dark handsome stranger that she intended on falling in love with…one day. 

She was sure that Charlie's Quidditch prowess had a lot to do with Jessalyn's infatuation. Of all of the male Quidditch players at Hogwarts, Aiden Pontin, the Slytherin Keeper, was the best looking. Not that she had any intention of telling Jessalyn of her thoughts on the matter. Jessalyn laboured under the impression that all Slytherins were evil, supported You-Know-Who and should not be allowed to learn at Hogwarts. Ria suspected that it was entirely that attitude that had driven He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named to being so evil in the first place. Contrary to popular belief – popular at Hogwarts, anyway – ambition did not automatically equal evilness. And anyway, Ria knew some Slytherins who were as anti-Dark Lord as the best of Gryffindors and feared for their lives just as much as people in her own house, if not more so, because a lot of their peers had parents who were Death Eaters.

'He's too old for you, Jessie,' Ria told her. 'Besides, he's not that great. Terribly condescending.'

'And how would you know?' Jessalyn was all at once defensive towards her favourite Seeker.

'I just do,' Ria said, unwilling to tell her friend of their conversation earlier. 

'No you don't,' Jessalyn complained. 'You just don't approve of older men.'

'Well, it would be somewhat paedophilic if you _did go out with him, you know. He's fifteen.'_

'And I'm thirteen,' Jessalyn pointed out. 'Two years isn't a bad age difference at all!'

Ria rolled her eyes. She got the distinct impression that she wasn't going to win this argument.

'Oooh!' she exclaimed, the subject of their conversation creating a convenient diversion. 'It looks like Charlie's seen the Snitch!'

The Seeker was angled in a steep dive, his Ravenclaw counterpart a few metres behind him. Jessalyn clutched Ria's hand tightly as the two of them held their breath, willing their player to make it to the Snitch first.

'HE DID IT!' Jessalyn shouted, earning some strange looks from surrounding Hufflepuffs. 'CHARLIE GOT THE SNITCH! I TOLD YOU SO!' This was aimed at the Ravenclaws, who, fortunately, couldn't hear her. Ria clamped her hand over her best friend's mouth.

'Shhhh!'

'Mmmph!'  Jessalyn pried away Ria's hand. 'What was that for?' she demanded, sounding highly affronted.

'If you carried on the way you were, you'd have been the recipient of several Ravenclaw hexes, rules or no rules. Honestly, Jess, have you not heard of 'rubbing peoples' noses in it'?'

'Please!' Jessalyn didn't sound convinced. 'As if they wouldn't do the same in our position!'

'Maybe they would,' Ria agreed, 'but that doesn't increase my desire to spend the rest of the week hanging around the Hospital Wing waiting for Madam Pomfrey to stitch you up.'

'Don't you mean, 'Honestly, Jessalyn, you have no sense of de-_cor-um?'' Jessalyn asked, grinning. Ria hit her playfully. The impression of her mother was spot-on. 'Stop being violent!' Jessalyn said, slipping her arm through Ria's. 'And come inside, I'm freezing!' Ria let herself be steered away from the Quidditch Pitch, but something caught her eye and she turned to look. A tawny owl was flying towards Dumbledore, bearing some kind of letter. The headmaster unfolded it and scanned it quickly. Then he got up and stooped to say something into Professor McGonagall's ear. Finally, he disappeared. __But you can't Apparate or Disapparate on Hogwarts Grounds, Ria thought, puzzled. And what on__ earth had been in that owl? _

*

Ria had managed to get away from the celebrations in the Common Room, and was now wandering the corridors hoping to find her sister. Becca was Head Girl, and if anyone was likely to know where Dumbledore had disappeared to, it would be her. Mind you, Ria wasn't entirely sure he _had_ disappeared, but Becca could find out. Perhaps Ria was making a mountain out of a gnome-hill, but she'd rather be over-reactionary and have her mind set to rest than prevent potential humiliation. Besides which, Becca was her sister, so she could brush off any scathing retorts**.**

She continued to walk in what she hoped was the direction of the Ravenclaw Common Room, and was rewarded by the sight of Gemma. Not the sister that she'd wanted to see, but a sister even so.

'Gem!' she called after her sister's retreating back. Gemma swung round to face her.

'Ri! Shouldn't you be celebrating?' Ria smiled. Gemma had managed to say that without sounding even slightly put out. 

'Maybe,' she agreed. 'But I'm not really in the mood for a party.' Well, that was true. She was about as far from a partying mood as was physically possible. 'Have you seen Becca at all?'

'I think she's…consoling Jeremy,' Gemma informed her, with a smirk. 'Is that why you wanted me? To find Bec?'

'Well...yes,' Ria agreed, slowly. 'Not that I don't love you and everything, but I really need to see Becca. Soon. Be a darling and find her for me?' 

'Charming,' Gemma said, sounding both disgruntled and amused. 'You could at least _pretend to be pleased to see me! And as for Becca – I'd love to help you, Ri, my sweet, but our dear sister is off somewhere with her beloved. Somewhere far away from the Ravenclaw Common Room, presumably, as we'd lynch him after Gryffindor's victory. And we were doing so well, too!'_

'You were good,' Ria began, grudgingly, 'but not good enough.'

'All thanks to Charlie-bloody-Weasley,' Gemma said, good-naturedly.

'Exactly,' Ria nodded. She sighed. 'I suppose I'd better go and hunt for Becca somewhere else, then. Do you have any idea where they go?'

'Somewhere secluded,' Gemma advised. 'The prefect's room, maybe. Try it and see.'

'Thanks, Gemmie,' Ria said, using the childhood nickname affectionately. 'You're the best.'

'You say that to everyone,' Gemma said, rolling her eyes. 'See you later, kiddo.' She turned on her heel and continued down the corridor, a blur of grey, blue and bronze. 

On Gemma's advice, Ria headed for the prefects' room. It was here that the prefects from the four houses, together with Bill Weasley and Becca, held meetings and discussed important issues. Ria had never actually been inside the room before, not being a child prone to offending, but she knew that the room was along the same corridor as the prefects' bathroom.

Ria rapped on the oak door three times. On hearing a muffled 'Come in!' she twisted the handle, and was greeted by a very red-faced Becca. Rebecca Rutherford was, by and large, a fastidious person. Her uniform was _always in perfect order, and she was never seen without her Head Girl badge pinned in the centre of her blue and bronze tie. Today, however, she looked distinctly rumpled. Her hair, usually kept off her face in a neat plait straight down her back, was loose and flowing around her waist. Ria had often envied her sisters their blonde hair, which, although wavy, was nowhere near as difficult to control as her own wildly curly dark locks. Becca, blue eyes sparkling, surrounded by a cloud of golden hair and blushing prettily looked like a fairytale princess._

'You look like you've been dragged through a hedge backwards,' Ria said, bluntly, not inclined to compliment people. 'I need to talk to you.'

'So talk,' Becca said, sounding ever so slightly put out. Goodness only knew what she had been doing. 

'It's kind of private.' Ria glanced nervously at Jeremy. The Gryffindor prefect seemed to take the hint. 

'I'll see you at dinner, okay?' he said, picking up Becca's hand and squeezing it. He gave her a look that clearly said 'you can tell me all about it then'.

When the door had shut behind Jeremy, Becca turned to Ria, hands on hips.

'What's so important that you couldn't wait?' she demanded. Then she paled. 'It's not Daddy, is it?'

'No!' Ria hastened to reassure her. 'It's Dumbledore. He got an owl at the Quidditch match and then he disappeared. Literally. But you can't Apparate on Hogwarts Grounds, it says so in _Hogwarts: A History.'_

'Are you sure?' Becca was all at once alert, annoyance forgotten.

'Positive,' Ria replied, twiddling a strand of her own hair around her finger, an absent-minded gesture of worry. 'Did Professor Dumbledore say anything to you about needing to go away?'

'No, but you said he got a letter?' Becca was your typical efficient Ravenclaw Head Girl, always anxious to get all of the facts.

'Yeah – it must have been important. He said something to Professor McGonagall and then vanished. You don't think something bad has happened, do you?'

'No, I don't,' Becca said, firmly, although there was worry in her eyes. 'Professor Dumbledore wouldn't leave us if it was _that sort of bad news.' They were both referring to the Dark Lord and the possibility of an attack on Hogwarts. 'Don't worry, Ria. I'm sure it's nothing. I'll talk to Bill, ask him if he knows anything.'_

 'Probably not,' Ria replied glumly.

 'Are you sure you're okay, Ri?' Becca asked gently. 'You look tired. You haven't been worrying again, have you?'

'It's been three _weeks, Becca!' Ria exclaimed, knowing that her sister was referring to their father's recent disappearance. 'And we haven't had so much as a postcard.'_

'Ri, if anything bad had happened then we would know. Dad knows what he's doing. Have a little faith.'

'It's the Death Eaters I don't trust,' Ria said, darkly.

'And in worrying, you give them more power,' Becca retorted. Then she hugged Ria. 'Try not to dwell on things, okay? You're not old enough to worry about these things. You're twelve, Ri, not twenty. Live life a little.'

'It's hard, Bec,' Ria replied, trying to keep the tears from flowing. 'If anything were to…to…'

'I know,' Becca replied, smoothing her sister's hair soothingly. 'Believe me, I know.'

*

Ria had left Becca to get on with her inquiries and returned to the Gryffindor Common Room feeling rather glum. It was easy enough for Becca to say 'don't worry', but Ria would bet all of her worldly goods that Becca was just as concerned as she herself was, if not more so. She was willing to bet that there were things about this war, about The Dark Lord, that she didn't know, things that she didn't want to know. She was also willing to bet that Becca, in her role as Head Girl, knew pretty much everything that there was to know. Even if Becca wasn't Head Girl, Becca had a feeling she would have made an effort to find everything out. Becca's insatiable thirst for knowledge was one of the reasons that her sister was a Ravenclaw. It was both endearing and irritating. Ria, while not stupid, could never hope to be a model student, whereas both Becca and Lucy had been. It was difficult not to feel inadequate beside them. Ria knew that she was intelligent enough, but she was not an all-rounder. She excelled at some subjects and completely flunked others. She was a practical student, she enjoyed things like Herbology and Transfiguration. Charms and Potions were an enigma to her. She was surprised that Professor Snape hadn't killed her yet. 

The jovial atmosphere in the Common Room did nothing to alleviate Ria's sense of foreboding. She sat and brooded, ignoring her friends until they eventually left her alone. There was no real reason for Dumbledore to leave Hogwarts. Whatever had been in that letter must have been very important, because Dumbledore had looked odd when he'd received it. There was some emotion in his face that Ria just couldn't put her finger on. 

Resisting the urge to fling the cushion she was cuddling across the Common Room in frustration, Ria stood up and marched through the portrait hole restlessly. She needed to do something to get rid of the pent-up energy.

With a dangerous disregard for rules, she decided to take a walk through the grounds. She debated the Forbidden Forest, but decided that even her current agitation did not warrant the risk of expulsion. Instead she walked to the lake, hoping that the surrounding panorama would soothe her troubled thoughts.

Idly, she picked up a stone and threw it into the water. It made a loud 'plop' as it fell into the depths of the lake. Sitting on a rock, she continued to absent-mindedly hurl missiles into the now greying currents. There was something soothing about the water. Ria, although still worried, began to feel less agitated. Something wasn't right, that much was evident. There were too many unanswered questions for coincidence. Her father's disappearance, and Dumbledore's, pointed to something huge. She didn't like to think what, but she knew that some life-altering decision had been taken somewhere.

She sat studying the local wildlife for hours, and was only jerked out of her reverie when she realised that her fingers were beginning to numb with cold. She glanced up at the sky and noticed with a start that twilight was drawing in. She must have been outside for a good four hours thinking around the mysteries that had arisen. She was surprised that no one had come to look for her, but perhaps in the melee of the Common Room no one had noticed that she was gone. It was a chilling thought, given the times that they lived in. Hurrying, she made for the Great Hall. 

*

Ria had been late for dinner, only just making it in time to eat anything, and by the time she had finished it was nearing eight o'clock and no one was left in the dining hall. The enchanted ceiling had turned from dusk to night, and the stars were twinkling, an ever-changing canopy of intrigue. Not that Ria believed in Divination. Scraping the last of her rice pudding out of the bowl, she stood up and made for the door.

She stopped for a conversation with the Fat Lady before entering the Common Room once again. It was still busy, but nowhere near as packed as it had been earlier. Ria noticed her sister in a corner of the room with Jeremy and the two Weasley boys. Worried, she made her way towards them. Surreptitiously she settled herself on a pouf within hearing of their conversation, and then pretended to be interested in a book entitled 'Iago Morbed and the Curse of Death', a fictional book that some Third Year boy had left lying about, no doubt. At the same time, she pricked up her ears and heard her sister speaking. 

'-they'd be no match against You-Know-Who and his followers. You-Know-Who has never even _considered attacking the castle, let alone tried to. I s'pose a lot of people don't realise how safe we are under Dumbledore's protection.' Becca sighed._

So Dumbledore wasn't on the Hogwarts grounds then. This didn't bode well for them. What on earth could have been so important that the Headmaster would leave a generation of young wizards and witches open to attack from potentially murderous sources? It didn't bear thinking about. Ria sighed, unconsciously echoing her sister. She didn't understand human nature - didn't think she wanted to - but one thing was perfectly clear to her. 

If Dumbledore had left Hogwarts then they were all vulnerable. It was Dumbledore alone who had been responsible for the Dark Lord's fear of attacking the school. Without Dumbledore it was only going to be a matter of time before the attack came.

*

Ria slept fitfully, but for once her father was not the cause of her insomnia. She woke late next morning, having finally fallen properly asleep at 3 am. As she rubbed sleep from her eyes, she realised with a start what had occurred the previous day. Worried, she checked that there was no sound of attack.

'Stupid,' she muttered to herself. 'As if you'd be able to sleep through an attack!' Hastily she pulled on some clothes and ran a comb through her hair. It was too late for breakfast, but she didn't feel particularly hungry. The dormitory was empty, and she had nothing of any importance to do. In the end, she decided to go to the library and research her Potions assignment to take her mind off of the current state of affairs. 

The library was pretty empty, as was often the case first thing on a Sunday morning. The only other inmate was Charlie Weasley, and he seemed to be deeply involved in some work or other. Madam Pince, the librarian, held a finger to her lips as Ria walked in. Speaking in very soft tones, Ria asked about borrowing the school copy of _Potions for Beginners by __Stuet Bet. The librarian seemed only too pleased to co-operate, and in no time at all Ria was sat at a table, quill in hand, studying the elementary textbook, one that she had been accustomed to using with her governess at home._

She was beginning to despair of ever understanding the art of potion brewing when Gemma joined her at her table. 

'Morning, Ri!' she whispered, sounding chirpy and setting down her parchment, quills, ink and a copy of _Hogwarts: A History which looked as though it had barely been touched. The truth was, it _had_ barely been touched. It was their home copy of the great tome, and while they had all been bookish children – even Ria – there had never been any real need to consult the history of Hogwarts when they were learning the great magical history of the world. Consequently the book had gathered dust, occasionally being pulled out when her cousin David had visited, and the great Quidditch players viewed reverently, but generally being left well alone._

Both Ria and Gemma were immersed in their work when Becca stormed into the library. They looked up at their sister worriedly. Becca, a great stickler for rules, was always insistent that you _tiptoed around libraries. Indeed, Ria could remember vividly from her childhood the days when Ria and Lucy had set up a school in the nursery, and Becca had insisted that they all take a trip to their father's library in complete silence. She had allowed the library door to slam behind her this morning. Something serious had happened._

'Everyone is required to report to the Great Hall immediately,' Becca said in a voice that allowed for no argument. Ria and Gemma exchanged a glance, both recognising the tense note in their sister's seemingly bossy tone. 'There is a matter of some urgency that Professor McGonagall wishes to address.'

Nobody moved. It was as though they could not believe the Head Girl's audacity. Who in their right mind called an assembly first thing on a Sunday morning, anyway? And when had McGonagall gone on a power trip.

'Did you not hear me?' Becca's voice rang, impatiently. 'The Great Hall, now!'

Ria got up, gathering her parchment and quill to her, and watched as Gemma did the same. They made for the library door, and as soon as they were in the corridor began to talk in hushed voices.

'I wonder what's up,' Gemma mused. 'Becca sounded odd. Sort of worried and upset. You don't suppose something has happened to Daddy, do you?' The worry was evident in her voice.

'No, I don't,' Ria said, quickly. 'Why would McGonagall call _everyone to the Great Hall if something had happened to Daddy? It would concern you and me and Becca. No one else.'_

'I wonder what it is then,' Gemma looked thoroughly bemused. 'I can't think why they'd get us all in there again if it wasn't important.'

The Great Hall was packed when they arrived. Students, House Elves, even Ghosts had gathered in the huge expanse, making the usually grand room seem cluttered and untidy. The House Elves were gibbering worriedly, probably concerned about appearing in public, and the ghosts were conversing in a similar vein to the students. All around people were hypothesising as to why they had been summoned. Suggestions ranged from the sublime to the ridiculous, with one First Year suggesting that McGonagall was going to announce her marriage to Peeves, the Poltergeist. Whether she was intending to lighten the mood or whether she was serious Ria didn't know, nor did she particularly care. Thanking her lucky stars for her small lithe figure she wriggled her way to the Gryffindor Table and found her friends. Before she could say anything, Albus Dumbledore entered the Great Hall.

'I appreciate how inconvenient this little meeting is, but I feel it is my duty to pass on the news that has settled on the wizarding world.'

Little meeting? That was the understatement of the century, if ever there was one. But there was a strangeness in Dumbledore's expression. He seemed to be controlling it, schooling it to appear serene, to give the aura of power that had become synonymous with his name.

'Some of you in the Sixth and Seventh Year may remember Lily and James Potter, who were Head Girl and Boy here several years ago.' Ria hadn't known the Potters personally, but she had heard of them. They were in Lucy's year, both Gryffindors. Lucy had been most put out that Lily had received the Head Girl position, having secretly coveted it herself. However, she had got on well enough with Lily Evans, as she had been, and no blood had been shed. Lucy had been Ravenclaw's Head Prefect, and had almost forgiven Lily for stealing her thunder. Indeed, Ria often thought that her sister showed something bordering on affection for her one-time rival. 

'Lord Voldemort attacked the Potters' house in Godric's Hollow yesterday evening, and I am sad to say that Lily and James Potter were both killed.'

_Killed?_ The statement reverberated around Ria's brain, somehow getting into every nook and cranny. But these people were the same age as her own sister, had been at school with her sister. Had probably joked with her sister. In a moment of clarity, Ria realised that it could just as easily have been Lucy and her mother as Lily and James Potter. The thought terrified her. Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak again.

'However, there is another part of this tale that must be imparted to you. Lord Voldemort not only tried to kill James and Lily Potter, but also their one-year-old son, Harry.'

Ria was conscious of a ripple of disgust travelling the length of the Great Hall. What kind of person would try to kill a baby? Then again, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named wasn't a person. Not really. 

'Yes,' Dumbledore continued, holding up his hand for silence, 'Voldemort tried to kill Harry Potter. But something happened then that he had not counted upon.'

There was an almost imperceptible air of expectation in the air. No one knew exactly where Dumbledore was heading, but it was obvious that he was heading somewhere. It was as if everyone was holding their breath, waiting for the inevitable.

'Somehow Harry Potter survived the Killing Curse. The curse therefore rebounded upon Lord Voldemort and…he is gone.'

Ria wrinkled her forehead. The Dark Lord? Gone? Vanquished by a baby? It seemed too good to be true. She glanced around the hall taking in the shock that registered on everybody's face, whether they were student, ghost, House Elf, portrait…it was surreal. She had dreamed of this day, and now that it had come she felt numb. Vaguely Ria could hear Dumbledore talking again, about the loss to the wizarding world. But she didn't take that in either. The news of Death didn't cut much ice with her. She wanted news of life, or, more precisely, her father's life. She wanted to know that _he had lived. What good would __His death be if her father was gone too? Suddenly, Dumbledore became clearer._

'…They would have wanted above all else to be able to raise their son without the threat of Voldemort. So I ask you all now to raise your glasses, please, to James and Lily Potter.'

Ria joined in, solemnly raising her goblet. The Potters' sacrifice was enormous. Her own father could fight safe in the knowledge that her mother would always be there for his four daughters. The Potters didn't have that luxury.

'Lily and James Potter,' she said, with conviction, unable to smile, but noticing those around her beaming at the gift that Lily and James Potter had given them. The gift of freedom. But Dumbledore was speaking again, his voice barely above a whisper.

'And finally I would like you to raise your glasses to Harry Potter - The Boy Who Lived!'


	4. Epilogue

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus

~Epilogue~

Early mornings at Hogwarts had always been a time of especial significance for Ariadne Rutherford. They were reminiscent of some of the happiest times of her life, and some of the saddest. 

From the entrance to the tent, she surveyed Charlie's sleeping form – the hazy red stubble on his chin and the long eyelashes that fluttered against his cheeks.

'I won't be long, Charlie,' she whispered to his unconscious form. 'There's something that I need to do.'

She felt in her pocket to check that it was still there, and smiled grimly as she felt its familiar presence. Confidently, she strode away from the campsite and towards the school itself.

She was conscious of every detail of her surroundings, and at the same time, blissfully unaware of them. She was a woman with a mission, and her focus was solely on completing it. Reaching the lake, she felt into her pocket once again, and this time she pulled out something small and glittering.

Aiden's ring.

She had kept it in spite of herself, unwilling to let go of this final reminder of the folly of loving. Being back at Hogwarts, though, seemed to give her some sort of strength and resolve. She was finally ready to break free from the constraints of the past. Clenching the ring in her fist, she took great delight in bringing her arm back and flinging it into the seemingly infinite depths of the murky water. She watched the ripples of displacement, devoid of emotion. The final link was gone, and the chains of her history could bind her no more.

With a smile of satisfaction, Ria turned around and made her way back to the campsite. She stopped outside the school entrance and surveyed Hogwarts' coat of arms. Intellect. Honour. Ambition. Loyalty. The four pillars of the magical world. And, underneath them, the motto:

Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus.


End file.
